The Hunt Chronicles (Book 2): Revelation

by Demers, J. D.

  “We were in Tbilisi, Georgia, when the Ur occurred,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry, Ur?” Campbell asked.

  “It’s what the Israelis called the day the dead started to walk,” Dobson told him. “It means ‘to arouse’ or ‘awaken’.”

  “The Awakening,” I murmured.

  “Yeah,” Dobson approved, “our people took to the name, too. It helps with the timeline. There’s pre and post Awakening.”

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Campbell asked Doctor Tripp, bringing the topic back on course.

  “Again, yes and no. We found copies of his research notes, but few details on how he created the virus.”

  “So, what is the virus?” DJ asked impatiently.

  “With technology jumping ahead so fast, Doctor Francois was able to start splicing the virus, effectively altering its DNA,” she said. “He was attempting to create a super virus. Not a deadly kind, but one that would enhance our immune systems, even to the point of creating the capability to regenerate. He mapped the virus with the human genome, which is probably why it seems to only be affecting humans. Through forced mutations, later versions were able to not only boost regeneration of the nervous system and muscle tissue, but were actually repairing damage in brain cells. The M virus was to become a smart virus, effectively creating a second immune system.”

  Fish crossed his arms. “Sounds good, except, let me guess, Doctor Frankenstein didn’t realize this M virus would continue to repair the human body after it died?” he asked sarcastically.

  Doctor Tripp nodded. “In effect, yes.”

  “See Doc, we’re not that stupid after all,” Fish grunted.

  She smirked, “We’re not sure if he realized this early on, or later, but he did see issues. The virus didn’t help the immune system, but took it over. Mutated versions would invade lymphatic glands and produce an entirely new type of cell. These supercells are like tiny biological robots.”

  “So you’re saying we all have these biological robots inside of us?” DJ asked.

  “No,” Doctor Tripp sighed. She would have probably been more comfortable writing a paper on the subject than responding to the constant interruptions and questions.

  Everyone looked confused, and I admit, I was one of them.

  Doctor Tripp went on to explain. “Transforming the DNA of a virus is not easy, nor is it an exact science. Doctor Francois intended for it to be passive until needed, and then return to its docile state. But it didn’t happen that way. Although the virus started out started out as intended, strengthening the human immune system when required, it was clear nobody realized how quickly it could adapt and evolve. The viral DNA mutated swiftly from its initial role as passive involvement, activated only by specific stimulus, to pre-emptive strike mode, causing severe alterations in the body, seemingly in an attempt to prepare for any possible future assault. It accomplished this in two ways. The first was by commandeering the lymphatic glands when certain enzymes were released into the vascular system. Those enzymes happen to be the same ones that are released upon death.”

  “And the second?” Campbell asked.

  “The second effect this mutation had was that, in some cases, the virus actually turned on its host, killing what it was supposed to protect. This happened in approximately two out of five people across the planet. That is why so many people died around the same time. Once dead, the infected lymphatic glands began to produce the new supercell. This cell we have named the M Supercell. It has the an uncanny ability to break down what the new immune system sees as unimportant tissue in order to repair the tissue it needs.”

  “Needs?” Fish asked crossly. “What in the hell does a virus need?”

  Doctor Tripp stared at Fish, and then said evenly, “What all viruses need. The same thing mammals, marine life, and even insects need. To feed and reproduce.”

  “Wait, you mean this virus is as smart as a mammal?” Gardner questioned.

  She shook her head and glanced around the room. “You don’t have to be smart to want to eat and reproduce. Single cell organisms were doing that long before there were fish in the ocean. The M virus, though, has mapped the human genome. It has not only the biological urge but also the capability to keep the body eating in order to spread its offspring. It repairs muscles to keep it walking, mends bones, and yes, maintains the necessary parts of the brain it requires for survival.”

  “So, is it only attacking the living to reproduce?” Campbell asked.

  Doctor Tripp shrugged. “Figuring out the infected corpses’ motivation is not really my specialty, but I can give you my best guess. I think it sees the living as the quickest source for the proteins it needs to survive, while at the same time continuing with its own reproduction cycle. As far as their eating habits, it appears they will consume anything organic for energy. Anything that expends energy must replace it. Plants and other vegetation can provide that energy, though meat is of course a more applicable source of amino acids.”

  “Okay, we get the walking dead,” I said. “That’s how zombies are made and maybe why they feed. If we all are carrying this active virus, why hasn’t it changed everyone? Why do people who get bit by zombies or scabs and don’t die, turn into more scabs?”

  “I’m sorry… scabs?” Dobson asked, confused at the term.

  “It’s what we call the infected that don’t die,” Campbell told him.

  “Ah,” Dobson understood. “The Israelis called them Sair. Basically it means devils.”

  Fish sighed. “You keep mentioning the Israelis. What do they have to do with this?”

  “We spent some time with them while waiting on the USS Porter to get off the coast of Israel,” Dobson answered.

  Doctor Tripp continued, ignoring the interruptions.

  “The M Supercells are produced in the lymphatic glands underneath the jaw. Once mutated, a reanimated corpse or Sair –err, scab, develops a sort of artery which leads directly to the mandible, with small gland openings along the gum line. This accounts for the black saliva both species produce from their mouths. This is also how the infection of the M supercell passes to victims. Almost like a snake bite.”

  “You said species?” Fish shrank back.

  “I see no other way to look at it. The DNA of the human is catastrophically changed once the active M virus goes into survival mode. Scabs are no longer human. There really isn’t any other way to put it.”

  “So how does that work? I mean, with scabs and the M Supercells? Why don’t they die like the zombies?” I asked. I was searching for answers about myself, rather than what everyone else in the room was interested in.

  “Zombies…” Doctor Tripp chuckled. “I guess that’s what you could call them. Well, in a zombie, the M Supercell does not start being produced until the body dies and releases the enzymes it needs to activate its survival mode. However, when a living person is infected with the supercells, it creates a feedback loop in the system. The cells release their own enzyme, which sends a signal to the virus. The virus then activates and starts pumping out its own supercells through the lymphatic system.”

  “The supercells have a much different effect when they reach the human brain. Instead of trying to resurrect the basic functions for survivability as they do in a corpse, they drive the host insane and cause massive brain trauma. A war between reason and basic survival is fought and lost by the host. I don’t have a lot of details on what goes on their heads, but I do know the actual chemistry and formation of the brain changes. Again, the host is turned into a new species.”

  “So, there is no cure for scabs,” Fish stated.

  Doctor Tripp shook her head. “Even if a vaccine were to be created, I wouldn’t know where to begin reverting an infected individual back to what they were. Besides, it would do little to help scabs, considering their old human immune system is no longer the same as ours.”

  “So, how many people have not been infected with the virus? Or have not been affected by the
M Supercells?” I asked, positioning myself. I was ready to say what I had feared for months.

  “There is no such person,” Doctor Tripp said sadly. “The virus, owing to its passivity during the early stages, is not attacked by the human immune system. It doesn’t know any better. To it, the virus is harmless and is allowed to flourish. According to the studies done before communications started to break down, the longest someone went before changing into a scab was twenty-three hours.”

  This was my chance. I could stand up and say “Sorry, Doctor Tripp, I broke their record.” But another thought came to mind. What if I had the M Supercell already in my system? There was still a chance people in the room might think I’m a carrier. I decided this wasn’t the place to blurt it out. I was going to corner Doctor Tripp later when I could get her alone. She was a scientist, after all. If anything, she would want to keep me alive for study.

  “So where do you fit in, Major? And how did you guys get here?” Fish queried.

  Dobson waited a moment.

  “I was part of the 56th Rescue Squadron at Lakenheath, England. A few days before the Ur, or Awakening, I received orders to rescue Doctor Tripp and bring her back to England. All overseas air travel had already been shut down. Europe and Western Asia were in chaos. By the time I got to Ramstein in Germany, the first cases of the walking dead started to surface in China and Africa. From there, we were airlifted into Georgia. Luckily, none of the countries had their Air Defense nets up anymore. Flying in wasn’t a problem, finding Doctor Tripp after communications went to hell was another. It took us two days to locate her.”

  Dobson let out a breath and continued. “By that time, Ramstein had fallen, along with every base in Europe. We still had comms with General Morley. He’s the—“

  “I know who he is,” Fish interrupted. “He made it?”

  “I don’t know,” Dobson said sourly, “but he at least was able to get us in touch with remnants of the CDC, who were setting up operations in Nevada. They had joined up with some military units and were fortifying Hoover Dam.”

  “Why didn’t they go to one of those huge bunkers the government built during the Cold War?” DJ asked.

  “Because those became death traps. I don’t know of any that survived. People were sneaking in infected family members. Word is, most of the elected politicians and higher brass are all dead… or worse. There hasn’t been word from the President, Congress, or the Joint Chiefs since Liberty Base fell.” The Major seemed drained as he finished.

  Campbell winced, “Liberty Base? I thought they were building a refuge there.”

  I remembered Campbell telling us a while back about a few surviving members of Congress setting up a refugee camp out west. Fish had read a flyer that had been airdropped during the first days of The Awakening that alluded to something similar. We never tried to go there because the logistics and security concerns of traveling a thousand miles were astronomical.

  “Yeah, and that became a disaster,” Dobson said dryly. “Their hearts were in the right place. I mean hell, a Democrat and Republican working together to save Americans? It had to be the end of the world. In the end, though, it spelled their doom.”

  “So what happened after you found Doctor Tripp?” DJ asked.

  “We couldn’t go back to Germany or England,” Dobson said. “A Colonel by the name of Forester had taken charge of the base at Hoover Dam. He was able to contact a surviving Naval Destroyer.”

  “AKA, the USS Porter,” Tom, the civilian contractor, said. “We only had a few infected on the ship. Originally, they were locked up until we learned about how bad the virus really was. The Captain made the hard choice of putting them down and throwing them overboard. We sailed for almost three weeks in the Atlantic, trying to decide what to do when we got a call from Colonel Forester. I guess the Captain agreed that getting Doctor Tripp back was vital, so we set sail into the Mediterranean.”

  “We traveled from Georgia to Israel,” Dobson continued his part of the story. “It took just over a week. It was a hard trip. I lost all of my men except Pitman. No one except Doctor Tripp from the CDC investigation team made it, either. By that time, the world as we knew it was gone, but we still had satellite communications with Hoover Dam. We stayed in touch with Colonel Forester while we hid with a small group of Israeli citizens that had fortified near the coast. We promised to take them with us…”

  “But?” Fish asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Porter’s helicopter had just enough fuel for one trip. There were over forty survivors, and we were only able to take on another six passengers.” Dobson frowned. “I— they never knew we were not coming back.”

  “At the time,” he continued, clearing his throat, “we thought being at sea was the safest place to be. Our plan was to sail south in the Atlantic and loop around Florida into the Gulf of Mexico. From there, we would make landfall in Texas. We needed to make it as far as Austin for them to send a Black Hawk.”

  Dobson’s face grew dark. “When we were in the Atlantic, a tropical storm hit us. Our Doppler radar warned us, but it was too late to get out of its path. By that time, communication with weather satellites had been lost. With no one at the ground stations to steer the birds, it was only a matter of time.”

  “The damage was catastrophic,” Tom explained. “Backups of backup systems were down. The engine room flooded. We were without power for days.”

  Dobson nodded toward Tom, “Tom rigged up some temporary power, but not enough for communications, or enough to steer the ship. It was all we could do to keep from baking in the Caribbean sun.”

  “That was when things went from bad to worse,” Doctor Tripp said somberly. “The food stores were running low. Some members of the crew tried to mutiny. Some took the life boats in hopes of making land. But the worse was the suicides.”

  Dobson continued their horror story. “Some of the Navy personnel would just jump overboard. We tried to save them, but with no luck. Then, an Israeli woman took her own life in the bowels of the ship. Soon, we had infected everywhere. Sergeant Pitman starting feeling ill and was put in the infirmary. When I realized there was no way to save the USS Porter, I grabbed him and the Doctor. We ran into Tom and we all jumped in a survival raft. When we made landfall this morning, I tried communicating with a portable short range Navy radio I hijacked from their useless Black Hawk. That’s when we made contact with you.”

  “So what is this sickness Pitman came down with?” DJ asked. “And did you bring it to us?”

  “I think it is pneumonia,” Doctor Tripp answered. “We tried treating it in the infirmary, but the antibiotics never took hold.”

  “That’s because it is not pneumonia, Doctor,” Rich said, finally entering the conversation.

  Chapter 17

  Price of Salvation

  June 23rd Evening

  “He showed all the signs of pneumonia,” Doctor Tripp argued.

  Rich shook his head, “To the untrained eye, it can appear as pneumonia, but it is not. Even you said you treated him with antibiotics to no avail. I’m not one hundred percent certain, but I believe he has a blastomycosis infection.”

  “How did he get that at sea?” Doctor Tripp asked. ““Blastomycosis is caused by a fungus found in loamy soil.”

  Rich nodded. “I was able to speak to Mr. Pitman briefly. He told me he started feeling symptoms when you were in Israel. He also said a few of the locals had the flu or pneumonia. He’s a tough man. He probably didn’t want to complain. By the time he was on the ship, the infection had spread so far that regular antibiotics would not have worked. If, that is, I am correct in my diagnosis.”

  “Without tests, how can you be sure?” Doctor Tripp inquired.

  “Because,” Rich smiled, “I have had the infection myself. He has all the telltale symptoms.”

  “Can you treat him?” Campbell asked.

  Rich nodded again. “I probably could, if I had the right antibiotics. In the stage he is in now, he will need a m
ore aggressive antibiotic. Amphotericin should do it. If it doesn’t, I don’t think he can be saved.”

  “Do you know where we can get this Ampho-whatever?” the Major asked.

  “Yes,” Rich told him. “There are few locations I can think of. It’s not a common antibiotic, so it’s doubtful that it would have been looted.”

  “So we go get the pills,” Dobson declared.

  “It’s not pills. Amphotericin is fed intravenously,” Rich corrected.

  “Whatever,” Dobson turned to Campbell, “We’ll need a team of experienced men to—”

  “Hold on a damn minute, Major,” DJ said, but Dobson turned and lashed out at him.

  “XO,” the Major said sarcastically, “you keep your ass here for all I care. I just need the Captain’s soldiers. I thank you for our rescue, but there is a bigger picture here.”

  “Major,” Campbell interjected, “I value DJ’s opinion, even if he presents that opinion in a less than cordial manner.”

  While the argument continued, I noticed Rich staring at Campbell, who had joined into the argument. I had this weird feeling in my stomach, like Rich was about to pull the pin of a grenade.

  “We’re talking about saving a man’s life here,” Preacher added. “If we can do it with little risk, I say we go.”

  “Captain,” Rich said softly, but for some reason, his voice carried over the debate.

  Campbell raised his hands and everyone fell silent. “Rich?”

  “Though the issue with Mr. Pitman is important, there is another issue. It is equally as dire as this one.” Rich was leaning forward, staring hard at Campbell. They were having a silent argument, an argument that Rich soon won.

  “Go ahead Rich,” Campbell said.

  Everyone stayed silent while Rich took a drink of water.

  “A few days ago, it came to my attention that Rachel is approximately five weeks pregnant,” he said evenly. There were a few gasps around the room. I felt a twist in my chest, realizing that I was right earlier that day when I saw her rub her abdomen.